Monday, January 29, 2018

Taking Cover

January 26
Anne and Fred and I had a belated holiday, celebrating Thanksgiving and Chanukah, birthdays, and new plans, new destinations. They made dinner, and I came with dessert, and though we were sorry Geoff couldn't join us, we did enjoy our evening together.

Saturday was my designated "Really Really Get The House Clean; Company's Coming" day, and so of course that was the first day of the heatwave. I reasoned that watering the garden would be imperative, because of the forecast for high temperatures, and dry winds. (Yes, the Santa Anas are back, and so is the Fire Weather Warning.) Anyways, I would just like to state, as a reminder to myself, that my "Really Really Get The House Clean; Company's Coming" day was a lot more enjoyable when I rewarded my efforts with small, regular breaks. Dishes Done... visit the sweet peas. Another load of laundry spinning... read an interesting article. Cleared off the porch table... watch something funny on the Internet. And so on. I was flitting from one disaster area to the next, all day, even past my bedtime, and a lot was accomplished without me feeling utterly beat.

Another nice thing to appreciate is how readily and willingly any of the four WAMMO will pitch in, and take initiative. Maria and I were bringing things to her room, and realizing that some changes were in order. She was happy to clear out things she's ready to let go of, and when I pointed out to her that her shelves are adjustable, she took over figuring that out, choosing a new configuration, getting tools, and making the changes herself. And while she diligently tackled that task, I kept her plushies and books company, and may have dozed off for just a few minutes. The nap was my reward for letting Maria be self-reliant, and not intervening. Good mom.

Saturday's clean up, was in anticipation of our Sunday Work Day, when we wanted to get through more steps for enclosing the carport. What it mostly evolved into was a day long open house, catching up with family and friends, celebrating Geoff's birthday, and mine, too, a little bit, actually, and also making carport progress. (I'm calling it #boomnerdspace2018, for our BoomNerds Instagram.) Fred and Anne came by, and we were looking forward to birding, especially seeing hummingbirds, but the wind, dry and hot, was really coming in, and so no birds. Instead we talked about some of our Making endeavors, and art. I did not resist intervening, this time, and begged William to please share his models of flintlock pistols and swords. His first pistol was hand sculpted. Now, he's working on a new piece, and he's able to 3-d print parts that that he can add to the pistol as removable furnishings, instead of parts that are glued into place.

Geoff and Alex made a run to the hardware store, for lumber. Paul, Janece, Amira, and Rae came. Ruth arrived, with carrot cake! And salad. And gifts. Holly was over. And Leo, too.

I decided to bring out my gouache paints. I wanted Janece, Paul, and Rae to share in my new-found love of playing with gouache. Rae, who painted Kiki, has used these paints before.

Confession: I did not need to "bring out" the paints, because they were in the heap of stuff covering our dining table, because when one "flits" from disaster area to disaster area, cleaning while taking regular breaks, there's a strong likelihood that even a very obvious mess will somehow get overlooked.

Admission: I seem to be increasingly immune to mortification, and was surprisingly unfazed by my shockingly cluttered table.

Conclusion: The paints, and other supplies, were on hand and we were able to play!

Addendum: Did anyone notice, I wonder, that I wiped down the front door, and matched about 400 pair of socks?

For me, one of the most dreaded tasks in #boomnerdspace2018 project was moving the five hundred pound metal cabinet. It's seriously too much of a beast to be easily moved, and if it tipped and fell... I shudder at the possible results.

Let's get to the good part, where I breathed a huge sigh of relief: It's done! They used a hand operated ratchet, a "come-along", and with William, Paul, Geoff, and Alex working and overseeing, the job was done, and without blood loss. Win. Win.

At the very end of the day, I brought my chamomile flowers, and birthday bud vase, (Magnolia Market) from Ruth, upstairs. I lit candles, and did just the briefest bit of bedtime yoga, then crawled into bed. It couldn't have been nicer.
January 28

Oh, this morning's sun. And the wind. And the "fire weather warning." Even Cairo couldn't bring himself to face this forecast.

I left the drapes closed, and just inhaled the chamomile.

For today... I will be flitting from this to that, then rewarding myself with small, regular breaks... like blogging, and taking cover from wind, heat, and other disasters.

Happy Monday, friends. Do what you can, and when you need to, take cover!

Followers

Time Travel

Liberty, 2013

Chirp-Chirp-Chirp BirdHouse Notes

Sorry. I am practicing freedom of expression:

Wholly shite! I just saw our share of the travel expense for robotics, and I am peeling myself off the floor from sticker shock. In 2 minutes I found 5 highly rated ABNB places where Maria and I could stay for 1/3 the rate. It's not that I am "cheap." It's that I am cheap and have no income, and hope to save for my golden years, or at least put one more kid through college. It's supposed to be inappropriate to talk about money, tacky, I know, but I think it's highly inappropriate to spend beyond my means, or pretend as if I can keep up with the Joneses.

*sigh*

It's not as though it's fatal, but I do feel nauseated.

March 20, 2019

1:29 pm

Instagram... lots of thought about that, and questions. I have the kind of questions about IG that I'd rather not ask aloud, because inevitably it would only demonstrate my insecurity. But here goes... why don't more users demonstrate a little more reciprocity, some like for like engagement, a bit of kindness, gratitude, or even genuine humility? Social media algorithms seem to go right for my jugular, or maybe only my ego.

Laugh out loud: a beautiful woman posted a selfie, with agonizing apologies for doing so, because in her words, "I never do this! I can't believe I am posting a selfie, but sometimes it's ok to be 'out there!'" I thought she was being so modest and humble, and it intrigued me, so I went to her page... and it was true: there were hardly any selfies on her wall, but there was not a single picture that didn't include her. Her entire IG was hundreds and hundreds, adding up to thousands, of pictures of her.

March 20, 2019

12:52 pm

Ten minutes ago I sat down with the intention of blogging. I frequently "intend" to blog. I fancy that I am taking a break, not broken-up. But, once again, I am derailed by something technical and my Google search is not yielding a solution. I sit here, increasingly aggravated, and my shoulder and neck begin to wince and whine, and I ask, "Why? Why pursue this? Is it out of habit? Certainly, by now, I must realize that this blog will not be my career, a literary accomplishment, noteworthy for..." never mind. My point becomes muddled, my thoughts self-deprecating. I miss keeping stories and details, adding to the memory book, and as I get older, I can truly appreciate the practical benefits of the reminders and place holders this blog has created... I will really want to kick myself if I don't continue writing down even small facts, that in years to come will make us smile, or help us keep records straight.

But. As I said... something in iPhoto won't talk to my phone and I can't import pictures. I am so behind. At least, that is how I feel, because I want to be caught up, I want to share all the happy things we have seen, or accomplished, our triumphs, and things we have conquered, tamed, or turned over. I don't feel like it's anything I am obliged to do, it's just what I wish, for my own sense of satisfaction... our pictures, and memories, jotted down and saved, for happiness sake. Sometimes, I feel a bit of relief thinking that as I have been away awhile, most people will have forgotten about Chikebbllog by now (however I spell it) and that I can slip back in and just go on and on about my favorite socks, and how the sweet peas are taking over, and not concern myself a bit that I never did write a book, or talk to Terry Gross.

Maybe I am relieved to not be blogging, because I hate the moment that, inevitably, arises when I feel compelled to share something of the accident, the one back in December. How can I help it? It clouds my head, still, and gives me nightmares, pain, anxiety, and a stutter. Not a very bad one, because I find that if I speak slowly, or not at all, it's not so noticeable. On Saturday, I cried half a day, because I was served another subpoena. It's "only" 2 different hearings/trials, but they keep changing the dates, and then comes a new subpoena. And do you know what troubles me? What will I wear? Because... "first impressions" and all that, and really, I cannot go dressed comfortably, as myself, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Take a bus, you drunk fool." No. I will have to go and face her and her attorney, dressed as me, myself, and I am sorry to say that I will appear as a gray, fat, old woman, that flinches when doors slam, or cars honk. I would rather stay home.